Automan: Fly By Night
by SailorChronos1
Summary: When top-secret government electronics are stolen, Walter and Automan go undercover at a military base to flush out the thieves.  Takes place after the TV series episode 'Club Ten'.
1. Chapter 1

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 1

Los Angeles seemed to be breathing a sigh of relief as the night banished the scorching heat of an early autumn heat wave. The few drivers that passed the five-story office building that housed Datasource Corporation paid no attention to its modern architecture and sparse aesthetics, since they were focused on their own errands.

Inside, a lean, wiry man dressed in black work clothes was feverishly working at the combination lock of a large wall safe, at the same time trying to avoid movements that would cause any noises to emanate from the compact tool belt that was buckled around his waist. There was no telling how thoroughly the security guard would do his rounds.

After successfully cracking the lock and opening the safe, the man scanned the labels on all the boxes inside, then quickly reached in and pulled one out. He stuffed the small flat box into a pocket with a button flap, fastened it securely, and then shut the safe once again. Then he turned away, shut off the light in the sparsely-furnished room, and cautiously opened the door to check the hallway. No guard yet.

He hastily slipped into the hall, closing the door behind him, and moved furtively toward a nearby stairwell door. He had almost reached it when the security guard rounded the corner.

"Hey! Hey, stop!"

As the guard ran forward, the thief ducked into the dimly-lit stairwell and began to climb. In seconds the security guard reached the door to the stairwell and yanked it open, pausing just long enough to pull out his gun before resuming the chase.

The end of the stairs at the top floor was not going to stop this thief. He clambered up a metal ladder, flung open a hatch, and pulled himself up onto the roof of the building. Hearing the guard still pursuing, he ran out a few steps and unclipped a flashlight from his belt to flash a signal into the night sky.

Its distinctive thrumming sound blocking out everything else, a helicopter came to a hover just above the building. Its passenger side door was open with a short ladder hanging from it. The thief jumped for it and hauled himself aboard with the help of the pilot, a square-built man with blond hair and a beard.

The security guard emerged from the roof hatch just in time to see the chopper lift away. He immediately fired a useless shot from his gun as the chopper's lights vanished into the night.

* * *

Walter Nebicher felt that he usually did his best work at night, but this afternoon proved to be an exception as he quickly tapped entries on his computer keyboard. He was comfortable with the machine, absorbed in the letters and numbers, and was paying more attention to that than to the person behind him.

Captain E.G. Boyd, a middle-aged, balding, no-nonsense type of cop with a distrust of practically all things technological, was irritably pacing up and down in the confines of the Special Sections office. "When are you going to be finished?" he grumbled, loosening his tie. The office's air conditioning just couldn't seem to keep up with the heat produced by those machines.

Walter, however, appeared to not mind the room's climate. "With this program?" he asked, not looking up.

Boyd swept one arm to indicate the three walls that were lined with computer banks. "With this whole thing you've been doing for the Feds."

"Oh, you mean the emulation."

"Is that what I mean?" Boyd asked sarcastically.

Now Walter stopped typing, and for the first time looked at his commanding officer. "That could take a while, Captain. You see, I have to make this computer look like an MTX-482, then run all the logic tests with my diagnostics-"

Boyd held up a hand to stop what was already becoming, to him, an incomprehensible torrent of jargon. The office door behind him opened, but he ignored it. "Now say all that in one _simple_ sentence," he insisted.

Walter hesitated, and then said, "I'm running a computer check-"

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" he interrupted again, turning away from Nebicher's flustered expression to see Roxanne Caldwell standing just inside the doorway with some papers in her hand. "What have you got?"

She handed him the papers. "The first report on the Merchant's Bank holdup. There were three witnesses who got a good look at the suspects."

Boyd took the reports and scanned them briefly. "All right. Let's get 'em in here to look at mug shots." He started toward the door, and then turned back to Walter, pointing at him. "And you get that Fed thing done as fast as you can, Nebicher," pronouncing it correctly for a change. "That computer's supposed to work for US." He strode out.

Walter and Roxanne exchanged a stunned look as Boyd left. This was the first time that the captain had ever conceded that he might actually be expecting something from the computer.

"Right, Captain..." Walter said to the retreating back, then sighed and ran one hand through his wavy black hair before facing Roxanne. As usual she was beautiful and dressed impeccably; today her shoulder-length blonde hair was pinned up with a clip.

"What time are you picking me up tonight?" she asked brightly.

He smiled back eagerly. "How about seven? We can have dinner at that little Italian place around the corner, and catch the ten-o'clock movie..." He stopped when Roxanne nodded thoughtfully. "Is something wrong?"

"No..." She shrugged, with a somewhat sheepish half-smile. "Well, I was remembering that my mother told me once to never get involved with men I had to work with."

Walter wondered why she would bring this up now when she had already given him strong indications that she was interested in a relationship. He tried to reassure her. "Your mother's right... but I wouldn't exactly call lasagna and a movie 'getting involved'."

Now Roxanne grinned at him a bit mischievously. "I think that would depend on where we had the lasagna... and the rating of the movie." She turned and left the room.

With an anticipatory smile, Walter turned back to the computer, only to be interrupted once again when Lt. Jack Curtis entered. Tall with a slight paunch and unruly grey hair, the man looked perpetually tired.

"Walter, got a minute?"

He always had time for his friend. "Sure, Jack. What is it?"

"Damned if I know." With a deep sigh he consulted a small, ratty-looking black notebook. "I caught the call on that break-in at Datasource Corporation last night. Burglars made a clean getaway - in a helicopter, yet."

Surprised, Walter said, "Sounds like James Bond."

"That's what the guard said. Anyway, I'm not getting much joy on this one. No fingerprints. No decent description. And the company won't even tell me _what_ was stolen. It's classified: 'government stuff'."

"You'll have to have a clearance to work on this." It was a known fact that any law-enforcement officer who was trying to investigate anything to do with the government had to have permission to do so.

"We're working on it," said Jack in a tone that plainly expressed his impatience with bureaucracy. "In the meantime, I found a helicopter rental company that rented a chopper out last night at nine o'clock. The pilot brought it back about midnight, and that's the right time frame for that burglary."

"Did you get the pilot's license number?"

"Right here." Jack showed Walter a page in the book. "Can you use the computer to check it out with the FAA?"

Walter grimaced uncomfortably. "This one's tied up, but I can do a search with my home computer. I should have an answer by tomorrow morning."

"Fast, Walter," Jack demanded. "I need it fast."

"I know, Jack. I know." He turned back to the computer, staring at it helplessly.


	2. Chapter 2

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 2

The sky exploded with sound as a group of six T-38 Talon jets roared overhead, twisting in perfectly coordinated rolls. The air show's bleachers were crowded with civilian guests and military personnel, all staring up in awe at the demonstration. Applause went up as the jets streaked away.

An announcer's voice boomed over loudspeakers. "Now here comes the Jetstars' Lead Solo, Captain Robert Macy, in a classic reversal maneuver called the Half Cuban Eight." As the aerobatic team circled the field, a single plane detached from the formation and began to trace the path of a figure-eight, interspersed with half-rolls. The announcer continued, "This move allows a pilot to convert speed into altitude and then back into speed, while reversing direction within a small area." When the maneuver was complete, the plane levelled off and re-joined the others as the team flashed by again.

Nearby, two men in casual civilian clothing stood in the aircraft parking lot, watching the show. One of them was lean and wiry, while the other was built more squarely. Nobody was within earshot but they kept their conversation seemingly casual.

"Any trouble with the chopper, Durrell?" the wiry man asked.

"No," replied the other, "but what if they check on that phony license?"

"Then we'll use the other one. Change your appearance too. Don't use the beard, and try a different wig."

Durrell shrugged, accepting the idea.

The Jetstars screamed overhead once more, this time in an Apollo formation, trailing red, white, and blue smoke. The announcer said, "On behalf of the Jetstars, thank you for coming. We hope you enjoyed the show!" There was applause and cheers for a few moments, then the spectators gradually broke up.

A man separated himself from the crowd and moved purposefully over to where Durrell and his companion were standing. He appeared to be in his forties, well-dressed and carrying a briefcase.

"You bring the money?"

"The job's not quite finished, Mr. Carnes," the new arrival said in a heavy Russian accent, looking at neither of them.

"What do you mean, Lubov, 'not finished'?" Durrell asked with annoyance in his voice. "We delivered all the parts."

Lubov explained, "To duplicate the circuits on our own aircraft, we have to know how the box interfaces with the airframe."

Carnes said with barely-controlled ire, "There's no way we can get close enough to the plane to find out."

"You'll find all the necessary security clearances, I.D., and official orders right here," said Lubov calmly as he placed the briefcase on the ground.

"What about our fee?" Carnes pressed him.

"Northstar Aviation has deposited two million dollars in a Swiss bank. When we get the rest of the information, you get the account number." Lubov turned and walked away, blending into a group of people who were leaving the airfield, and then disappeared.

Durrell reached down and picked up the briefcase, and he and Carnes moved off in different directions.

* * *

On a movie screen, men's voices were raised in a suspenseful confrontation, followed by a gunshot and a woman's scream. Walter and Roxanne sat beside each other in the darkened theatre, amid a sparse audience.

Roxanne was intent on the movie, not noticing Walter's covert glances at her. Casually he put his arm across the back of her seat, lightly touching her shoulders. She didn't welcome it, but nor did she complain; Walter smiled in contentment.

Back in Walter's basement workshop, the computer had been left running. On the screen were the words:

Re: FAA License Check  
Search Complete. STAND BY FOR AUTOMAN...

By the time Walter had gently closed his arm around Roxanne's shoulders, she seemed to have accepted his affection. Unnoticed, Cursor appeared in a pop of light and impishly transformed itself into a huge tub of popcorn planted on Roxanne's lap.

The theatre began to rumble and quiver as if an earthquake was happening.

Roxanne's eyes widened, knowing all too well what was about to occur. "Wally..." she warned in a low voice.

"Oh, no," Walter groaned, covering his eyes with his free hand. This was definitely not a good time.

The air around the seat beside Walter shimmered with blue light, and Automan appeared, sitting casually and smiling in greeting. While his head was that of a very attractive man, his body from the neck down was composed of a blue grid-like starfield which glowed so brightly that it almost eclipsed the light from the movie screen.

"Someone will see you!" Walter hissed at him. "Put on a coat; a trench coat like Jack's!"

The muttering attracted the attention of a middle-aged man who was seated a few chairs over from them in the same row. The man looked over to see Automan's brilliance, and he did a double-take, hardly believing his eyes. Quickly he leaned to his wife. "Mary... Mary!" he whispered.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, annoyed at the interruption.

"Look at that guy!" He pointed urgently.

Puzzled, Mary leaned forward to look past him. By then however, Automan was wearing casual clothes covered by a trench coat, looking perfectly normal. She glared at her husband. "Watch the movie, Harry."

Harry glanced at Automan again, who smiled genially. Deflating, he obediently turned back to the screen.

"I have some information for you, Walter," said Automan.

Roxanne became agitated. "Wally, what's Automan _doing_ here?"

"I told him to notify me if he came up with anything for Lieutenant Curtis..."

Now Harry leaned over, exasperated. "Hey, you want to talk, go outside."

"I'm sorry," Roxanne said, looking uncomfortable. At that moment she noticed the container in her lap and glared at it. Cursor reformed and darted under her seat.

Automan commented, "According to reviews, it's not a very good picture, anyway."

Fed up, Harry said, "Come on, Mary. We're leaving," and stood.

"Why?" his wife asked, confused.

"Never mind. Come on."

As the couple left the theatre, Mary could be heard grumbling, "You never wanted to take me to this movie, did you?"

* * *

Once they had walked back to the theatre's lobby, Walter admonished Automan, "Couldn't you have waited? I _finally_ got a date with Roxanne!"

"You priority-coded the request, Walter," was the matter-of-fact response. "The license was a complete forgery. It's exceptionally well done, but the Federal Aviation Agency has no record of it."

Momentarily forgetting his irritation, Walter went into detective mode. "Has it been used anywhere else?"

"I'm looking into that now."

"What are you talking about?" Roxanne interjected.

"Automan has been checking up on some high tech break-ins..." Walter began.

She cast a glance at the ceiling. "That sounds _fascinating_; don't let me interrupt," she said sarcastically.

"All the burglaries have two common connections. The specific items or plans stolen were tied to government subcontracts, all of which were for a 'Project Chimera'," Automan continues, heedless of Roxanne's remark.

Walter scowled. "Never heard of it."

"Neither had I."

Surprised, Walter stared at Automan. It was extremely rare that his creation didn't know about something technology-related. "_What?_" was all he could say.

"I even had a chat with my friend, the Joint Chiefs of Staff computer at the Pentagon. Project Chimera is so top secret that even he doesn't know exactly what it is."

Walter groaned in frustration. "Auto, that brings us back to Line One."

"Not necessarily; he did tell me _where_ it is. The project creator, Dr. Markham, uses the computer at Landmark Air Force Base."

"Then ask that computer," he suggested.

Automan shook his head slightly. "I can't get into it. There's no interface to the civilian world. We'll have to go there."

Walter asked hopefully, "Sometime tomorrow?" He would really rather keep his date with Roxanne than go on what could potentially be a wild goose chase.

"Right now," the hologram insisted.

Of course he would say that. Walter glanced at both Roxanne and Automan, feeling torn apart. "I can't do that. I have a date. I mean, I can't just run off and..."

With a small sigh, Roxanne said, "I don't mind, Wally." She was smiling but the hurt in her eyes was obvious.

"Well, I do," said Walter, now angry. "And what about my car? If I leave it here, it'll be towed away."

She held out one hand. "Give me the keys; I'll take care of your car." This wasn't the first time she'd had to deal with it, and probably wouldn't be the last.

Walter reluctantly pulled the car keys from his pocket and handed them to her, letting his hand mingle with hers for a moment longer than was necessary. "I'm sorry, Roxanne."

She shrugged to hide her disappointment; she knew how much Walter liked working with his holographic partner, so how could she compete with that? "That's all right, Wally... It's not like we were 'involved' or anything." She walked out of the theatre, Walter and Automan following.


	3. Chapter 3

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 3

The streets at this hour had almost no traffic, enabling the black Lamborghini with glowing blue piping to speed along unimpeded.

"Hang on, Walter. We're taking off," Automan warned.

Holding his breath, Walter sat back and clung to his seat. No matter how many times he experienced this, it still unnerved him.

The car began to glow and shift its form, lengthening slightly and sprouting low-aspect-ratio wings on the rear, becoming a highly elegant and futuristic supersonic jet which immediately took off directly skyward.

Unbeknownst to the Autoplane's occupants, the driver of the car that had been behind them stared wide-eyed at the transformation, and momentarily lost control. The car careened wildly, almost driving off the road, before he finally wrestled it to a stop and craned his neck out the window to get one last glimpse of the departing aircraft.

* * *

The buildings of the Landmark Air Force Base were darkened for the night, all except the tower which shone with spotlights illuminating the walls and a roof-mounted aircraft beacon.

Two men occupied the control room, one of whom wore a Captain's uniform and a name tag reading "Jason". He stood solidly with his hands behind his back, looking out the windows at the night sky. Behind him an air traffic controller was diligently watching the radar screen.

Suddenly Captain Jason spotted something, and pointed toward a blue object that seemed to be flying faster than anything rightfully should. "Look at that thing move! What is it?"

Frantically checking his instruments, the controller barked, "Where? There's nothing on the screen."

"Look at that!" Jason insisted.

The controller stood and stared out the window, finally seeing what the officer was trying to show him. "Look at that sucker go!"

Jason repeated, "What is it?" But even with all their experience with aircraft, neither of them could identify the mysterious plane, which by that time had disappeared.

"You mean, what _was_ it?" said the controller, and the two men exchanged puzzled looks.

"I don't know," stammered Jason, "but I won't tell if you won't."

They quietly resumed their previous positions. Whatever the object had been, it was quickly forgotten.

Outside, unseen by the men on duty in the tower, the Autoplane cruised low over the runway and then landed straight down in the manner of a helicopter. Walter and Automan emerged, and the plane promptly became translucent and de-rezzed.

"What're you doing?" Walter asked with apprehension. "They'll come and arrest us any second!"

"Why?" asked Automan. "They don't even know we're here."

"But the base's radar-"

"We couldn't be tracked on radar, remember? It passed right through us."

"But if they see us-"

Automan said confidently, "We'll look just like we belong." He stood at his full height and Cursor buzzed around him, rezzing up a full General's uniform. Then the glowing sphere proceeded to Walter, whose eyes widened as Cursor rezzed up a uniform for him, too.

This was the first time in his memory that Cursor had created a disguise for him as well as Automan, and Walter was both surprised and delighted. However the feeling was quickly banished when he realized that he was wearing a private's stripes.

"Cursor," Automan was saying, "A jeep, please." And Cursor created a military jeep from thin air, adorned with the usual glowing pin-stripes.

"Wait a minute," Walter protested. "Why do you get to be a General, and I'm just a private?"

"Some are born to lead, Walter," Automan said in a commanding tone.

"What about security?"

"I've already taken care of that. 'General Otto Mann' has the highest security clearance available, and his name is on the approved list for access to all classified areas."

Trust Automan to have thought of everything. With a sigh of resignation, Walter muttered, "I don't know why I even bother to ask," before beginning to get into the passenger side of the jeep.

Automan stopped him. "I think it would be more appropriate for you to drive." He indicated his rank insignia.

Silently fuming, Walter crossed over to the driver's side as 'General Mann' settled into the jeep. "You just remember one thing: you are a figment of my imagination."

"Well, then you know exactly who to blame," said Automan with an amused smile.

Walter knew he couldn't win this one. "All right! There's a computer that I want you to talk to." He drove the jeep swiftly toward a complex of buildings away from the hangar area.

Two Air Force Police sentries were on duty at the gate that divided the base's computer complex from the rest of the area. They came to attention when they saw the jeep approaching.

Walter stopped the jeep and leaned out, smiling pleasantly. "Good evening. General Mann has important business in Building A-31."

"Yes, sir," said one who wore a name tag reading "Linden", opening the gate. Both sentries saluted as Walter drove the jeep through. As the gate closed, Linden looked over at his partner. "I didn't know that he was here on the base."

"Who?"

"General Mann."

Linden's partner became confused. "I didn't even know there was a General Mann, but his name is on the list," he said as he gestured at the clipboard that he was carrying. He watched the jeep's taillights recede, and then picked up a nearby phone.

* * *

The heavy door to the base's computer room was locked, but Automan phased an index finger into the lock and turned it gently, as if it were a key. The door opened easily, and they entered the room to see a truly state-of-the-art computer arrangement that made the Special Sections office at police HQ look out-dated. Data banks and tape systems lined the walls, and in the middle of the room was a large angular console with a keyboard and screen on either side.

"Cursor, wait outside and warn us if anyone comes," Automan instructed. Cursor twittered and darted out through the door.

Walter gave a low appreciative whistle. "Look at this setup, Auto. I've never seen an MTX-482 before."

"No wonder I couldn't interface with it," said Automan, walking toward the console. "This must have at least a twenty-digit prime by prime security code." He smiled, with an awed look. "Isn't she one of the prettiest things you ever saw?"

For a moment Walter marvelled at Automan's penchant for seeing a computer in the same way as a human male would view a beautiful woman. "It's very nice, Automan," he said with a hint of impatience.

"Nice?" was Auto's retort. "She's gorgeous," he continued in a loving tone. "This is going to be interesting." He reached out to the computer as if to shake hands, and his hand disappeared into the console. "Hello, I'm Automan. Why don't we-"

Suddenly an electronic beeper sounded and the console lit up brightly. A female computer voice said sharply, "No access," as the same words flashed on a screen; simultaneously Automan yanked his hand back as if he had been burned.

Concerned, Walter asked, "Are you all right, Auto?"

"I'm fine," Automan replied, unfazed. "She has a good security program. Watch this." He placed his hands gingerly on the main computer bank. "This is Automan again. We're working on Project Chimera. Access, please."

Again the beeper went off, along with the same message: "No access."

"Uh-oh," said Walter softly.

Automan, however, wasn't finished yet. "Don't worry, Walter. It's merely time to go over this computer's head, so to speak." He addressed the console firmly, "I call your attention to the designation XBL-22985." He added to Walter over his shoulder, "That's my friend-"

"The Joint Chiefs of Staff computer, I know," Walter said.

With a confident look, Automan continued, "On this authority, you will give me-"

The beeper repeated. "No access."

"You were right about that security code, Auto," Walter noted. "This is one stubborn computer."

Now Automan appeared to be defeated. "Frankly, Walter, I find myself at somewhat of a loss."

Walter had an idea. "What happens if you try the name of the man who created the program?"

"You mean Dr. Markham-?"

Automan broke off, as instead of the beeper this time, they heard a musical ding as the computer voice said, "Chimera file open. Enter request." The same words appeared on the screen.

"Walter," said Automan as he looked at his creator with a very impressed expression, "How did you do that?"

"Call it... intuition," Walter replied, a bit smug.

"Why am _I_ not programmed with intuition, Walter?"

He opened his mouth to speak, and then as he thought about it he realized that it would be next to impossible to explain such a human quality to a hologram. Besides, they didn't have the time right now. "We'll talk about that after you get what we need."

Automan accepted the statement with a nod and turned back to the computer.

* * *

The main door opening on the hallway to the computer room was unlocked from the outside, and the two sentries entered. Linden flicked the lights on as his partner, Ott, looked around blinking at the sudden change in illumination.

"I don't get it," Ott said. "What happened to the General?"

Linden shrugged. "The jeep's gone. Maybe he finished his business."

Ott wasn't convinced. "How'd he get out if he didn't pass us?"

They started to walk cautiously down the hall. Behind them, Cursor popped into sight, humming softly to itself for a few seconds before vanishing.

Back in the computer room, Walter was nervously pacing around as a program was running on the screens. Suddenly Cursor arrived, startling him as it flickered and beeped excitedly. He didn't need to understand what it was saying to realize that someone was coming, and turned to the console. "Auto!" he called urgently.

There was a low-pitched, buzzing hum of an electro-magnetic field interacting with solid matter as Automan walked out from where he had literally been inside the computer. "Yes, I heard. Merge with me, Walter. The Air Police are searching the building." He stood still to allow Walter to walk into his form, rezzing around his creator's body and bringing him into the digital dimension.

Facing the door, he phased through it. As he emerged into the hallway, he was immediately spotted by the two APs.

"There he is," exclaimed Ott. He and his partner hurried down the hall, just as 'General Mann' quickly slipped back into the computer room. They reached the door but found it locked, and Ott fumbled with a ring of keys on his belt until he found the correct one.

Automan strode across the computer room and through the opposite wall into an adjoining room, just as the door opened and Ott stepped inside.

Ott glanced around in confusion. "He went in here, I saw him!"

Linden, who had waited outside, spied General Mann as the latter stepped out of the wall further down the hallway. "He's out here!"

Ott exited the computer room just in time to see Automan disappear through the wall at the end of the corridor.

"H-he's not human," Linden stammered, his face pale.

They ran to the spot where they had seen the General vanish, and examined the wall. Linden went so far as to knock on the wall several times with his fist. "How did he get out? There's no door."

"Maybe he went through the wall?" Ott suggested nervously.

"Through the _wall_?" Linden scoffed. "The only things that can do that are ghosts."

"You don't suppose that General Mann died?"

The two regarded each other, disbelieving.

All was quiet outside as Automan returned to the runway. He paused to let Walter de-merge from him, and then commented, "That MTX-482 really _is_ a dear. Cursor!" Cursor whizzed out and drew the glowing shape of the Autoplane, tracing the sleek details repeatedly until the aircraft solidified.

"Did you find out anything?" Walter asked.

Automan smiled, quite pleased with himself. "Not _any_thing, Walter. _Everything_."

They both boarded the completed Autoplane and it lifted away.


	4. Chapter 4

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 4

Walter opened the door to his apartment to admit Jack Curtis, who looked more dishevelled than usual.

"This better be hot, kid," the lieutenant grumbled. "It's three in the morning and I had something going."

Walter briefly wondered if the "something" had to do with Jack's old friend Tanya DuBoise from Interpol, but pushed the thought aside since it was none of his business. "It _is_ hot," he said eagerly. "I've got information on the Datasource burglary, and why the government's so anxious."

Jack slumped into a chair as Walter poured him a cup of coffee. "So give."

"There's only one problem..." Walter paused.

"I've been cleared, kid," came the reassurance. "The Feds have finally decided that they can trust me."

"If they'd asked me," Walter muttered half to himself, "they would have done that a long time ago. At any rate," he continued, handing the cup to Jack and picking up his own half-finished coffee, "everything stolen had to do with Project Chimera. It's the code name for the ultimate stealth plane."

This got his friend's interest. "What the hell's that?"

"It's a plane where everything in it, from its airframe to its paint, has been developed to foil radar. That means something as big as a B-52 can have the radar profile of a hockey puck."

Impressed, Jack whistled. "Where does Datasource come in?"

"It's called the 'black box': a compact computer that guarantees complete electronic radar jamming. For security, it's being built by two different companies: Datasource and Teletech."

"And a little bird just told you this, right?" Jack asked with some scepticism.

Walter became a bit exasperated. "Jack, I can't reveal-"

"I understand," said Jack at once. "It's the computers. You know how to talk to them."

"Just one in particular." He allowed himself a private smile.

The lieutenant sighed and took a gulp of his coffee. "This is pretty hard to believe, kid."

"I know," Walter said more urgently. "But if you don't, you're going to be investigating another burglary... at Teletech."

Jack slowly turned to him. "Wally, I'm afraid it's a little late to be worrying about that."

The expression on Jack's face caused Walter's gut to sink. "What do you mean?"

* * *

"Why in hell didn't you _tell_ somebody?" Captain Boyd hollered, his voice echoing off the walls of the computer room. "This isn't something you keep to yourself!" His furious gaze swept over Jack and Roxanne as well as Walter.

Curtis shot back, "Captain, by the time Wally put the information together and got to me, the Teletech burglary had already happened."

"How could he have figured they'd shoot a guard?" Roxanne added.

Boyd wasn't mollified. "A good cop figures on everything and anything." He swivelled to resume his rant at Walter, jabbing a finger at him. "You went through the Academy, Nebish. Didn't they tell you to _move_ with information on a crime?"

Walter attempted to defend himself. "Captain, I work with computers, not crystal balls. I can't tell you _when_ somebody's going to pull a job." He paused, and then delivered the punch line. "But I think I know who's involved in this one."

"This had better be good," Boyd warned.

Clearing his throat, Walter announced, "All the signs point toward it being someone connected with the Jetstars."

"The Jetstars?" Roxanne recognized the name.

"You mean the Air Force flying team?" asked Curtis, incredulous that Walter would accuse them of all people.

Walter nodded. "You yourself gave me the clue: the helicopter rentals, remember? According to the computer, in each place there had been a burglary and a helicopter rental, the Jetstars were putting on a show nearby."

"Boy, you're talking about the cream of precision flying teams," Boyd reminded him. The look he gave made it clear that he thought Walter wasn't dealing a full deck. "I'd be careful if I were you."

"I _am_ being careful, sir. The pattern is there."

"Just a minute, Wally," Roxanne said. "Teletech is down in Costa Mesa. The Jetstars were flying a show _here_ in L.A. That's not in your pattern."

Curtis became thoughtful and waggled a finger. "It is when you realize that it's less than a half-hour away by air. Walter, you've really got something," he complimented, an appreciative smile spreading across his face.

Walter smiled too, feeling vindicated by Jack's support. "Thanks. I was going to give it to the Department of Defense..." He reached for the phone but Boyd stopped him.

"Just make one thing clear: this is our case, and we're in it all the way," the captain insisted.

Clapping his hands together in anticipation, Curtis grinned. "All right, then. It's time for _us_ to get serious. And if the Defense Department will cooperate, I know just how to do it."

* * *

Edwards Air Force Base was a gem in the desert to almost anyone who knew how to fly a plane. Its history as well as the view of the Rogers Dry Lake National Historic Landmark was enough to cement its reputation. On this day, a prominent sign near the base's entrance advertised the Jetstars' participation in an upcoming air show.

An official Air Force car pulled up to the gates. Seated in the back were Jack Curtis and Walter Nebicher, both disguised in accurate Air Force uniforms. Jack wore the insignia of a Major and Walter was a Second Lieutenant. They both showed I.D. to the guards.

"See those signs?" Jack said quietly, pointing toward the ads.

Walter smiled, glad that his hunch had been good. "I knew this was the place to be. This base has not only the Jetstars; it's got an almost complete stealth plane hangared as well."

The military police officer in the gatehouse finished checking their I.D. and handed it back. He stepped back and saluted, and then waved them on.

"Go ahead, driver," Jack called.

The driver was none other than Roxanne, dressed in the uniform of a Sergeant. She turned and scowled at them. "Why do you guys get to be officers, and I have to be an enlisted man?"

"My sympathies, Roxanne," Walter said sincerely. "I know exactly how you feel."

Her response dripped with sarcasm. "Thank you, Walter."

"Drive," Jack ordered.

She drove on.

A short time later, the three of them were standing in a greywashed hallway in the Officers' Quarters, talking to a lean man dressed in a dapper brown suit.

Smiling politely, he said, "The Jetstars are delighted to be the subject of an article in Airman Magazine. I believe you'll find enough material to interest you."

Curtis smiled back. "I'm sure we will." He was carrying a briefcase, unlike Walter and Roxanne who bore heavier accoutrements such as camera cases and a portable typewriter.

"Mr. Durrell and I are civilian attachés," their guide continued. "We do a little publicity, public relations, and try to pull everything together to run things for the team. I'll introduce you to the pilots and our support crew after you're settled in. And any information I can give you, just call on me. Here comes Lieutenant Welles," he added, turning to indicate the approaching officer. "She's the base's Personnel Officer, and she'll show you where you'll be staying."

Walter couldn't help but eye the young woman appreciatively; she had the air of crisp efficiency, but with the face and body of a cover model. He thought that it was a pity that she chose the Air Force over magazine photo-shoots. "I appreciate your allowing Sergeant Caldwell to stay here, Lieutenant."

"It is a little unorthodox to quarter enlisted personnel in the Officer Quarters," she said. Her voice was in a smooth alto range.

"You see, Sergeant Caldwell is more than just our driver..."

Welles gave him a meaningful look, and said in a suggestive tone, "I think I understand, Lieutenant."

Roxanne cleared her throat. "No, I don't think you do. You see, it's like we're a team."

Smiling, Welles said, "Of course... and I'm sure you work very closely together. In fact, I've given you adjoining rooms."

"But..." Walter began to protest, but Jack elbowed him gently in the ribs and whispered, "Wally, quit while you're ahead."

"Major," Lt. Welles addressed Curtis, "Your room is here, across the hall." She indicated another door.

There was a slight rumble and the building trembled for a few seconds. Roxanne glanced at Walter, her eyes wide, and he responded by lifting his eyebrows.

Welles shrugged it off. "Sorry about that. You get used to living near a fault line out here."

"I hope I will," said a rich baritone voice.

They all turned and saw a tall, blond-haired man step out of a nearby room. He was garbed as an Air Force Captain and bore a pilot's wings badge. As he approached he smiled genially at them all, but his expression broadened into a dazzling grin when he saw Lt. Welles.

"Who are you, sir?" she asked. Her expression didn't change, but her eyes betrayed her interest.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he apologized gracefully. "I just got here and thought I'd check out the quarters. I'm Captain Mann... Otto J. Mann."

The petrified Roxanne closed her eyes as if groaning to herself. "Walter..?" she squeaked.

Curtis had recognized 'Captain Mann' as well. "Hey, isn't that your Federal agent pal?" he asked Walter in a low voice.

Walter shifted his feet uncomfortably. "I'll explain later."

"Just assigned here, on a special mission," said Captain Mann for everyone's benefit.

Welles said knowingly, "The, uh... Hangar Twelve assignment?"

"That's right. If you're Lieutenant Sarah Welles, I have a copy of my orders here. They told me at the Personnel Office that you'd be here." He dug in a pocket to pull out a teletype, and handed it to her.

She took a cursory look at it. "From McGill, huh? Nice base; I put in two years there. Well, Captain, if you're happy with that room, I'll leave you all to move in." She turned on her heel and marched away.

Curtis said, "I have to check in with the Office of Special Investigations to keep them up-to-date on what we're doing." Nodding at them, he left also.

Roxanne waited until Curtis was out of earshot, and then pointed an accusatory finger at Automan. "What's _he_ doing here, and how did he get here?"

"Ah, well..." Walter hesitated. "I programmed him to be here." He faced Automan with a questioning look. "But you're so clear, and it's in the middle of the _day_."

"I'm drawing on the base generator for this visual presentation. Since that power is always available in case of emergency, there won't be any difficulty in maintaining my presence." He smiled with his habitual self-assurance.

Refusing to be deterred, Roxanne asked, "_Why?_"

Walter explained, "While we're posing as journalists, he can question the pilots as another pilot."

"But he's not!" she insisted.

Now it was Walter's turn to smile knowingly, and he gestured toward Automan. "He's the only qualified pilot of the Autoplane."

At last Roxanne was rendered speechless.


	5. Chapter 5

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 5

Out on the flight line, Mr. Durrell was helping Curtis settle into the cockpit of a T-38 trainer. Captain Macy, a capable pilot in his late twenties, was standing on the wing looking on. At the same time Walter was walking around the plane taking pictures with a professional Yashica camera.

"There you are, Major," said Durrell. "Comfortable?"

Jack grinned. "I always hoped I'd be able to fly a baby like this. Then my eyes started to go on me, and I wound up flying a desk instead."

"Excuse me," Durrell chastised him lightly, "but it takes the best pilots to put these birds through the maneuvers the team goes through."

"Would you like to go up with me?" Macy offered. "It might be good background for the article."

Jack's face lit up like a child's on Christmas Day. "Could I?"

Macy laughed. "Nothing easier. I have to take her up now for rehearsal, but I'm clear tonight. Be on the flight line at seven o'clock, okay?"

"You got it," said Jack eagerly.

* * *

The six Talons of the Jetstars team whooshed overhead as they worked through a complicated stunt. Jack and Walter watched from the ground, the latter taking a photo every so often.

"You're really going up with Macy tonight?" asked Walter, envy in his voice despite the fact that his own experiences flying in the Autoplane surely outranked a T-38.

"Why not? I did fly transports when I was in the Air Force," Jack admitted. "But it was peacetime flying - after Korea."

"Speaking of keeping the peace, got any ideas on suspects so far?"

"As far as the Jetstars go, not yet. But that new pilot, Mann... I have a few suspicions about him." He didn't notice Walter's sudden nervousness. "Real convenient, him being transferred in just now."

"Uh... maybe Washington sent a military intelligence agent to investigate too," Walter temporized.

Jack snorted. "Then they should tell us. If I have to pull a gun, I want to know who's who."

Then Walter noticed something across the field. "I wouldn't worry about Mann. He looks like he can take care of himself."

Jack turned to see what Walter meant: there was a group of pilots gathered nearby, and Automan (still in uniform) was with them. Laughter went up as apparently Automan had told them some humorous story; clearly he had made himself welcome.

Some distance away, Carnes was watching Walter and Jack as Durrell walked up to join him. "Those people from Airman Magazine... they've been nosing around."

"Yeah, talking to the pilots," said Durrell. "Is something wrong?"

"I had them checked out. The brass at Airman Magazine gave them an okay, but no one's been able to find a by-line for Curtis or a picture credit for Nebicher."

This got Durrell worried. "Who do you think they work for?"

"I'll bet they're not with Airman, or the Air Force." Carnes didn't want to take any chances that their plans might be discovered. "I have a plan for 'Major Curtis'. I hear that Macy's taking him up for a little joyride tonight."

* * *

A single T-38 Talon jet took off from the runway, rising gracefully into the orange-splashed sunset. It was a perfect evening, with very few clouds to obscure the view.

"There's some ground fog coming in," Macy's filtered voice sounded over the jet's communications system.

Jack confirmed from the rear seat, "I can see it moving in from the west."

"I'm afraid you won't be able to see much of the ground." The disappointment was still evident in Macy's tone despite the filtering.

"That's okay," Jack reassured him. "It's beautiful up here. Look at that sky." Despite being decked out in full flying gear including the restrictive G-suit, Jack was enjoying himself. "That ground fog is also beautiful from here, but is it going to give us any trouble when we land?"

"No way," said Macy easily. "Not with the new ground radar guidance systems." He banked the plane away from the spectacular sunset and headed into the darkening eastern sky.

Abruptly Macy stiffened and stared at his instruments, as one after another they began to fail. Needles and gauges plummeted to zero. "What the hell-?" he exclaimed before collecting himself and calling into the radio, "This is Air Force five-niner-niner. May Day! May Day!"

Meanwhile, Walter and Roxanne were in the tower, listening to the murmurs of the air traffic controllers in the background. Automan was also present, intently studying a radar screen that showed the green blip of the T-38 moving across it.

When Macy's emergency broadcast came over the speakers, the group's reaction was electric. As a controller grabbed a microphone, Walter and Roxanne moved closer to the console to find out what was happening. Only Automan didn't move, still observing the radar blip over another controller's shoulder.

"Edwards Air Traffic Control, what is your problem, five-niner-niner? We have you on radar," said the controller.

Macy's voice crackled over the speakers, "Instrument failure. Everything's gone-" The radio contact failed.

Automan faced the controller at the radar screen. "What's his fix?" he asked urgently.

"He's ten miles out, zero-eight-five degrees true, at fifteen thousand feet."

On board the jet, Macy was trying increasingly desperate measures to get some readings from his instruments, but with no success.

"What do we do?" Jack asked. "Can we eject?"

"We've got no choice. Get out, now!" He reached down to activate the ejection system, but even that didn't work.

Jack also tried the eject handle. Nothing. "Any _other_ options?"

"Stay with the plane," said Macy, struggling to keep the panic out of his voice. "I can try to set her down somewhere, but without instruments... and with that fog..."

It was easy to determine that their prospects for survival didn't look good. "Yeah," Jack said grimly.

The air traffic controller on duty frantically tried to raise the aircraft again, with no luck. Then he switched channels. "Flight Officer, this is Air Traffic Control. We have an aircraft in trouble: no instruments, no radio contact. There are no other ships in his vicinity."

Walter's skin crawled as he realized there was only one way to help Jack and Captain Macy now. "Auto..." he said softly, glancing at his friend.

Automan understood at once. "Yes, Walter. Let's go."

"Walter, wait!" Roxanne called, but she was too late - the two men hurried out.

They jogged toward a relatively secluded taxiway as Cursor swiftly formed the Autoplane. Automan only paused long enough for Walter to step into his form and merge with him, before he climbed into the plane and took off.

On the flight line stood another Air Force jet, a pilot and ground crew running for it in a scramble. Of course they had no way of knowing that another plane had already gone on ahead.

The crippled jet was circling somewhat erratically, causing Jack a great deal of concern. "How are we doing?"

"I'm flying wide circles, trying to estimate our position," Macy replied, then looked up and exclaimed, "What the hell is that?"

A sleek black plane with blue piping approached them on a slightly higher course. After flying a circle around them, the mysterious plane moved in front of them and waggled its wings.

Jack became excited. "That used to mean 'Follow me'," he told Macy. "He's going to lead us in!"

Sitting in harmony with the Autoplane's controls, Automan remarked, "It appears they understand your signal, Walter."

Walter's voice spoke from Automan's mouth. "I saw Gregory Peck do it in a movie once."

As intelligent as he was, he sometimes was frustrated that there were so many gaps in his knowledge. "I wish you'd played that movie for me," he said with a rueful tone.

* * *

The air traffic controller who was studying the radar screen suddenly looked up with a surprised expression.

"What is it? What's going on?" Roxanne demanded.

"I don't get it," the man said, confused. "Our lost sheep seems to be finding his way home."

Roxanne lit up, extremely pleased. The other occupants of the tower converged on the radar screen, watching it intently.

The controller's voice, however, was tense. "With no altimeter and no air speed indicator, he's going to have to bring it in on sheer instinct."

The Autoplane led the T-38 toward the base like a dog on a leash, gradually descending toward the lighted runway. Gracefully the Autoplane set down, and without slowing, moved out of the way and disappeared as the T-38 came in. The T-38 set down hard and bounced a little before settling. Its brakes screamed, but finally it slowed and began to taxi toward the hangar.

"He made it!" shouted the air traffic controller amidst cheers from Roxanne and the others present.


	6. Chapter 6

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 6

There was a fair crowd gathered in the Officer's Club, including the Jetstar pilots. The central dance square was bordered by round wooden tables, and a jukebox in one corner was playing various popular tunes. 'Captain Mann' was the center of attention as he conversed with the people gathered around him; also part of the group were Walter and Jack Curtis.

"How did you get airborne so fast?" Curtis was asking. "They said that you were up before the Flight Officer could scramble a plane to help us."

"It's done with computers." Automan's calm demeanour gave nothing away.

"Then you're here as a test pilot for that plane," said Walter, deliberately implying that there was more than one test plane on the base. It wouldn't do to have people start to ask awkward questions.

Automan beamed at him. "I'm definitely part of a test project."

Curtis wasn't convinced. "If it's a test plane, why'd you take off without clearance?"

"It was an emergency, Jack," Walter pointed out.

"Right," said Automan, picking up on Walter's prompt. "I knew that I could get the Auto - uh, that plane up before anyone else, and I'm its only qualified pilot."

Walter tensed and bit his lower lip at Automan's near-slipup, but fortunately nobody called him on it.

Captain Macy stepped up and raised a glass. "Gentlemen, I don't care how he did it. I'm just glad he did. To a damn fine pilot."

"I'll second that," said Curtis eagerly, lifting his own glass.

The crowd responded with applause and cheers, which Automan accepted with a gracious smile and nod. However Walter caught his gaze and gave him an exasperated look before raising his eyes to the ceiling in a classic 'why me?' gesture.

Automan stepped forward. "I want to thank you all for the friendship you've shown. But we're really all here to celebrate the safe return of our comrades: Tom Macy and Jack Curtis."

His neat deflection caused the club to erupt in cheers, whistles, and the occasional shout for a speech.

At a table in one corner of the room, Captain Jason was quietly getting himself drunk. Several empty highball glasses were strewn in front of him, and he was sipping from another half-filled glass. "Celebrate, he says!" he muttered to himself. He hadn't expected the sudden transfer from Landmark AFB following the 'mystery plane' incident and wasn't happy with having to hang around these hotshots. "How can ya celebrate on base-issue booze? You wanna celebrate, ya need some high class stuff, like..." his voice slurred, "Château Mouton Rothschild." He stared off into space.

The bright glow of the ceiling lamp above him diminished slightly as Cursor emerged from the fixture, where it had been observing the scene. Unnoticed by the officer, it traveled down to the table and sparkled an exquisite bottle of champagne into existence.

Jason saw the bottle. Had he been sober he probably would have wondered where it had come from, but instead he leaned forward unsteadily and regarded the label. Then he shook his head and turned away. "Wrong year," he complained.

The bottle transformed back into Cursor, which bounced up and down angrily and then promptly became a can of beer.

Reaching toward where the bottle had been, Jason mumbled, "Well, any year is a good year." He stopped when his hand closed around the can instead of the bottle that he was expecting. Startled, he let go of it, and Cursor re-formed and darted off. After a moment Jason stood and began to weave away. "I'd better call it a night."

* * *

In a secluded area near the hangar, Carnes was waiting in the shadows as someone approached; it was Durrell, walking stealthily. He called from the darkness, "Durrell... over here."

Durrell looked around and spotted the source of the voice, and then stepped out of the light to join Carnes. "What does it look like from your side?"

Carnes said quietly, "The guard on the stealth plane has been increased."

"That checks with what I saw. Could they know about us?"

"Would we be here like this if they did?" asked Carnes with some disdain.

Durrell conceded the point with a nod, but went on in an annoyed tone, "That snoop Curtis got back okay. What about that new pilot, Mann?"

"Our sources have nothing on him. It's like he appeared out of thin air."

"He has to be a government agent," Durrell concluded.

Carnes glanced toward the hangar. "Then we'd better make our move tonight."

* * *

Walter and Automan exited the club some time later, and Roxanne was waiting impatiently for them. "I thought you'd never get out of there," she said.

"I'm sorry, Roxanne," Walter said somewhat penitently. "But they only allow officers and-"

"I know," she interrupted, as a look of disappointment at the uniform she wore crossed her face. "Somebody had to be the Sergeant, and I got elected. Where's Lieutenant Curtis?"

As they walked toward their billets, Walter informed her, "He's really enjoying the atmosphere in there. A regular old war horse."

"We combat veterans do tend to reminisce," said Automan with a smile.

Both of his friends stared at him with surprise and confusion, and Roxanne blurted, "Combat veteran? What are you talking about?"

"Walter, do you remember a computer game called Fighter Pilot?"

The young man shook his head with a rueful laugh. "Do I?" The game had been one of his attempts at breaking into the arcade market. "I would've made a bundle on it if someone hadn't beaten me with a helicopter raid on a river game."

"I learned a great deal from that game, Walter. I believe I share a certain bond with those men in there."

Walter smiled, understanding, but Roxanne wasn't impressed.

They entered the Officers' Quarters and stopped outside of Automan's room. Walter frowned and indicated the bottom of the door, where light was shining through from the other side. "Who could that be?" he asked.

"I'll take a look," said Automan, and his gaze penetrated the molecular structure of the door. The room was sparse in the military manner, with a wardrobe and chest of drawers on one wall, a single bed opposite, and a desk, at which Sarah Welles was sitting. "It's Lieutenant Welles."

"We'd better merge and check this out, Auto," Walter suggested. To Roxanne he said, "You wait here. This could be trouble."

She jabbed a thumb at her own chest. "I'm a cop too, remember?"

Reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently, he said, "We might need you to get Jack. Please?"

Grudgingly, she moved aside. Walter sidestepped into Automan's form which rezzed around him, and then Automan opened the door to the room and walked in.

"Is this an official visit?" Automan asked as he entered.

Sarah stood up and smiled in greeting. "Partly; I find you rather... interesting," she explained.

"Really?"

"Yes. Most new personnel either hand-carry their records, or the records arrive before they do." She put one hand on her hip, her expression inviting an explanation.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, Automan walked over to the desk. "You have the teletype notifying you of my assignment," he said, not volunteering anything. "Besides, you said this was only partly business."

Sarah moved around the desk, sashaying gracefully closer to him. "You're different from the other men here. That intrigues me."

It was clear to Walter that she was coming on to Automan, and although he was fairly certain that Automan had realized it as well, this conversation needed to be kept on track. "I'm glad to hear it," he said genially, his voice projecting through Automan's mouth.

The sudden difference startled Sarah. "Are you nervous? Your voice just changed."

Automan took control. "No, no. Everything's fine."

On the other side of the door Roxanne was listening carefully, interested in Automan's attempts to get information from the Lieutenant. However she wasn't too happy with the direction the conversation was taking, and hoped that Walter could handle it.

Sarah edged right up to Automan and laid a hand on his chest. "It's just that sometimes I believe in a personal interview with a new officer." Then she lifted her hand and began to stroke his glowing collar.

He gently removed her hand from him. "Does this go in the files?"

She gazed at him with a coy smile. "Not everything goes into the computer."

"I'd have to agree with that," he said, becoming businesslike. "Do you know much about the Jetstars personnel?"

"They're not based here. But I know something about them: what I've heard here and there."

"Do any of them know how to fly helicopters?"

She laughed lightly. "Who cares about helicopters? Jets are the planes of the future." A little put out by Captain Mann's standoffishness, Sarah wondered what he was up to. Then she smiled and approached him again, and this time got a response as his arms went around her. At his touch she shivered. "When you touch me, it feels tingly... like an electric shock. I've never had that happen before."

Despite himself, Walter said, "I have," through Automan's body. He felt sure that Roxanne had to be doing a slow burn as she was listening at the door.

Sarah leaned back a bit. "You know, you look too old for your voice to be changing."

"I _am_ a little nervous," Automan told her, and he briefly glanced to one side, scowling. _Walter, be quiet,_ he thought firmly.

Sarah placed her hand on his chin and prompted him to look at her again. "I know how to take care of that," she said, and kissed him playfully on the lips. "That's funny. I feel... I don't know, an electricity with you that I've never felt before."

"I hope it doesn't come as a shock," he joked in a more gentle tone. "Now you were saying about Jetstar personnel who have helicopter experience?"

"Are we back on that?" She was galled at his insistence but when he leaned over and began to kiss her ear, she sighed. "All right. Major Dillon flew choppers in Vietnam, then transferred into jets. That's in his service record."

"No one else?" he whispered in her ear.

She relaxed against him. "Not among the pilots. There's a civilian named Durrell... who has a private helicopter license. I've-" He interrupted her with a quick kiss on the lips. "-had a few talks with him."

He moved his hands up her back and began to knead her shoulders. "Interesting."

With a knowing smile she continued, "He invited me to go for 'a little ride', but I declined."

The two of them kissed deeply.

Roxanne pulled herself away from the door and put her back to the opposite wall, her fists clenched in anger at Walter. It had been his idea to go in 'with' Automan, and now he was being a voyeur on the steamy scene between the hologram and the Lieutenant. "Walter Nebicher," she muttered between her teeth, "just you wait until I get back!" She stormed away to find Curtis.


	7. Chapter 7

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 7

Automan and Lt. Welles slowly released each other from their embrace, and she began to remove his tie. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen," she purred sexily. "You're wasted in an Air Force uniform."

He arched an eyebrow, curious as to where this was leading. "It _is_ getting warm in here, isn't it?" His tie fell to the floor, and he started to unbutton his shirt. The blue glow of his electro-magnetic body flared from underneath as the buttons came apart.

_Keep your shirt on!_ came Walter's fierce thought.

He grabbed the shirt closed as Sarah backed away from him, very alarmed. "I was only trying to... what _was_ that?"

"It's a special flight suit," Automan replied quickly. "I wear it all the time."

"In case of emergency," Walter elaborated, and then silenced himself, heartily wishing that he could speak with Automan's voice in situations like this.

Sarah shook her head and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "What is it with me? Why do I get all the weirdoes?" she lamented. Again she glanced at Automan, considering him, and then stepped closer to kiss him once more.

* * *

The officers' club was still in the throes of the party when Roxanne entered hurriedly. Spotting Curtis having an animated conversation with some of the pilots, she threaded her way to him through the crowded room. "Excuse me, sir."

"Yes, Sergeant?" he said.

She put all the urgency she could muster into her voice. "There's a phone call for you, from headquarters."

Jack's eyes flickered with interest, and he nodded to the pilots with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Excuse me. Probably a new deadline I've got to meet." He rose and followed Roxanne out to the foyer. "What's up? Where's Wally?"

"He's still..." She hesitated, found something suitable to say for the moment, "...gathering information. But he already got one lead. There are two men with the team who have helicopter ratings: Major Dillon and that P.R. man, Durrell."

"I know Major Dillon, and there's no way he could fit the description given by the Helicopter Rental Service."

"Neither does Durrell..?" Roxanne wondered aloud.

Jack pondered a bit. "Unless you take off the beard... change the colour of the hair..." It became obvious once he took the disguise into account. "Roxanne, I'm going to check out security at the stealth plane hangar," he said. "If Durrell's involved, he's got all the pieces he needs, except the plane." He rushed away; time might be of the essence.

* * *

Carnes and Durrell, both wearing uniforms, drove up to the security gate of the Hangar 12 area in a jeep.

The guard stopped them. "Sorry, sir, this is a restricted area."

Carnes handed him a paper. "Orders authorizing us to enter and install this equipment in the plane." He indicated several boxes in the back of the jeep.

A little suspicious, the guard looked over the orders and then handed them back. "I'll have to inspect those boxes, sir."

"Sorry," said Carnes with a dismissing wave. "We're the only ones authorized to handle them."

"Your papers are in order, but it's pretty late to be doing this kind of work, sir."

Carnes shrugged. "I didn't write the orders, I just follow them." Seeing the guard's hesitation, he added, "We have to move on this, Airman. They're testing it tomorrow."

Finally the guard conceded, and saluted them before waving them through.

They pulled the jeep up to the open hangar doors, and Durrell unloaded the boxes carefully. Then the two men hurried inside toward what appeared to be a Hercules transport plane.

Moments later, another jeep approached the security gate, driven by Jack Curtis. He jammed on the brakes as he was challenged.

"Hold it right there!" called the guard.

He flashed his police badge and I.D. "Lieutenant Jack Curtis, police, working with the Office of Special Investigations."

The guard snapped to attention. "The Colonel told me about you."

"Has anyone come through here tonight? Anything suspicious?"

"Two men, with orders to install some equipment on the plane."

"Call Base Security and get some help over here," Curtis said urgently. "I'll try to find them." He gunned the engine and tore off toward the hangar.

A bit confused, but accustomed to following orders, the guard promptly pulled a two-way radio from his belt. "G-12 to Security One!"

Carnes was heading into the plane via the cargo door as Curtis came running at him and grabbed him from behind. They struggled fiercely for a few moments before Durrell came to Carnes' aid, grabbing a wrench and expertly bludgeoning his compatriot's assailant on the head. Curtis sank to the floor, dazed and helpless.

"He's probably alerted the whole base!" Durrell snarled.

Carnes pointed to the cargo door. "Get him on the plane." At Durrell's shocked look, he clarified, "In case we need a hostage."

"You want to take the _plane_?" This hadn't been the plan.

"Unless you've got a better way to get us out of here." He jerked his head at the fallen policeman. "I'll start hooking up that black box while you taxi her out." He strode into the plane's hold, leaving Durrell to look down at Curtis, lying unconscious on the cement floor of the hangar.

* * *

In the Officer's Quarters, Roxanne knocked at Lt. Curtis' door, concerned that he hadn't returned from the hangar. When there was no response, she called, "Lieutenant, are you in there?" She glanced at her watch. It was getting late, and if something had happened to Curtis, they needed to move quickly. Setting her face into a stony glare, she marched over to Automan's door.

Automan and Lt. Welles were locked in another embrace when there was a knock at the door. Then a second. However either they heard nothing or chose to ignore it. Abruptly the door opened and Roxanne entered, crossing the room with a determined air as the kiss ended and Welles pulled back to gaze deeply into Automan's eyes.

"You know," Welles said, "There's something about you that's... different. You make my ears ring."

"Excuse me," interjected Roxanne curtly.

Welles jumped, startled by the presence of another person in the room, and released Automan. "Don't you knock before entering, Sergeant?" she snapped.

"I did knock, sir," Roxanne said flatly, "but you probably couldn't hear me over the ringing in your ears."

"Is there something you wanted, Miss Caldwell?" Automan asked.

"Yes. You." She angled her head toward the door.

His eyebrows went up. "At this moment?"

Her voice betrayed her cold fury. "Right now. I have an important message for you."

Automan turned and started for the door, and then he stopped and glanced back at Welles. "'Do not ask for whom the bell tolls... It will toll for thee,'" he quoted in a suggestive tone. With a smile, he followed Roxanne out into the hallway.

Lt. Welles smiled secretly to herself, and settled into the chair to await his return.

Roxanne was waiting in the hall, hands on her hips, as Automan stepped out of the room and closed the door. "Walter, I need to see _you_ right now!"

Walter separated from Automan's form, looking rather embarrassed. "I can explain-"

She cut him off with a wave; his explanation would have to wait. "Lt. Curtis went to check up on the stealth plane. He should've come back by now."

He paled. "Something's wrong! Auto..."

They all dashed down the corridor.

* * *

The trio barrelled out of the building, and once they had reached the road, Automan called, "Cursor, the jeep."

Cursor popped into sight in front of Automan and dutifully transformed into the jeep. They climbed in, with Automan in the driver's seat this time. The jeep accelerated to full speed at once, and then did a ninety-degree turn at the end of the block, racing toward Hangar 12.

The guard at the gatehouse saw the jeep speeding at him, and he stared to reach for his gun in a panic. But then with no screeching tires and no skidding, the jeep stopped right before him.

"Military Intelligence," Automan identified them.

"We're looking for Jack Curtis," Walter called.

An ear-splitting roar from the hangar drew everyone's attention as the stealth plane appeared, taxiing slowly out of the hangar and toward the runway.

Automan kicked it in and the jeep accelerated away in a flash, leaving the guard just standing there with his mouth agape. Again he stopped on a dime at the edge of the taxiway.

"They're almost to the runway!" Roxanne cried.

Walter pointed across the field. "Get to the tower. Tell them they have to stop that plane!"

She scrambled out of the jeep and ran for the tower.

On board the plane, Carnes was hurriedly installing the black box into the instrument panel. Despite its unassuming appearance it was actually a sleek and sophisticated compact computer.

"Hurry up, we're ready to roll," urged Durrell from the pilot's seat.

"In a minute... It's almost there." He fumbled with a wire.

"If we aren't radar invisible by the time we clear the runway," Durrell barked, "Control will vector fighters onto us!" He opened the throttles.

The stealth plane gathered speed and took off into the night sky.


	8. Chapter 8

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Chapter 8

Half the base soon became organized chaos. As military police vehicles converged on Hangar 12, air traffic controllers and computer operators alike crowded into the control tower, and flight crews were scrambling to their jets.

A breathless Roxanne displayed her police badge and I.D. to the head ATC at the tower and attempted to explain what was happening. Around them, operators were bent over scopes and other instruments, and one was staring out the window with infra-red glasses as he tried to visually track the departing plane.

The ATC had accepted Roxanne's story and allowed her to remain in the control room. "We'll try to track them until some fighters can scramble."

"Fighters..?" she gasped, horrified. Was the technology on that plane so important that they would sacrifice the lives of those aboard, including Lt. Curtis, just to keep it secret?

"We have them on the scope," called one of the controllers, who moved aside from the radar screen to show a blip moving across it. "They're on a heading of... they're gone!" The blip had vanished.

* * *

The atmosphere in the stealth plane's cockpit was one of tentative jubilation. Durrell briefly checked his readouts. "The program's working. Nobody can track us on radar now," he said with a smug look. "But what now? Where do we go? What do we do with this thing?"

Carnes grinned avariciously at him from the co-pilot's seat. "We are going to sell it to the highest bidder."

A jeep raced down the runway and transformed into the Autoplane, launching at full speed on the same course as the stealth plane had taken off moments before. It didn't take long to catch up to their quarry.

"We have to get them to turn back, or land," Walter said.

"I've been thinking about that." Automan was, as usual, one step ahead. "As you know, this aircraft occupies another dimension."

"Sure. They can see us, but we can't really do anything to them." Suddenly he realized what Automan was suggesting. "But if we make them believe we're a threat..."

"They might turn back," Automan finished. "Hang on!"

"Oh, no!" Walter grabbed his seat, expecting the worst, and he received it.

The Autoplane overtook the stealth plane, and commenced to buzz it in a series of impossible maneuvers including its characteristic ninety-degree turns and swift, darting sideswipes.

Carnes and Durrell were alternately awestruck and horrified as they watched the glowing plane maneuver around them. At one point it flew past and appeared to stop right in front of them, hovering there for a moment before shooting upwards and disappearing.

Durrell was sweating as he worked the aircraft controls, trying to avoid a collision with what to him seemed to be an ultra-high-tech stunt plane. "What kind of plane _is_ that? That guy must be crazy!"

"How'd he track us?" Carnes asked, looking wildly out the windshield.

"Are you sure that computer's working?" Durrell demanded.

"This is the _only_ plane it works on!" insisted Carnes, and then he gaped in terror. "He's coming straight for us!"

The Autoplane loomed large in the windshield, about to collide with them... then suddenly it dropped straight down and out of sight.

Walter was plastered on the ceiling of the plane for a moment, and then fell back into his seat with a groan as Automan resumed level flight. "Remind me to program in seat belts," he said as he checked himself over, and wondered why he had never gotten around to doing so after all this time.

"Just a little longer, Walter. I think we're getting to them."

"Good," he said, sighing. "I don't know how much longer _I_ can take what we're putting them through."

Automan gave his customary amused smile.

By this time Durrell had become more composed. "Carnes... what if that's another experimental plane? Unarmed, or unwilling to shoot. Either way, he doesn't want to harm us, because even when he makes those weird passes he always breaks off."

"So?" Carnes was still scared.

"Next pass, we don't budge," he said resolutely. "I want to see what he does."

Carnes leaned back in his seat with a shaky breath. "Just so long as it isn't the last thing we see."

The stunt plane came at them again, drew near, and then broke at the last second, making a 90-degree turn off to their starboard.

Carnes let out a cheer, while Durrell just smiled.

"You're right," said Carnes with a wide grin. "Nobody can stop us now!"

* * *

"They didn't try to avoid us on that last pass," Automan noted.

Walter set his lips in a thin line and shook his head in disappointment. "They have us figured out."

"We can't let them get away," said Automan grimly. "If the technology on that plane falls into the wrong hands, no country will be safe."

"I have an idea. Let's merge." He waited a second for his partner to alter his density, and then slid over into the pilot's seat to merge with his form.

Once the merger was complete, Automan understood what Walter wanted him to do. The Autoplane cruised in level flight, then overtook the stealth plane and came down on top of it, phasing into it. Then the Autoplane de-rezzed, leaving Automan standing in the cargo hold of the Hercules with Cursor hovering at his shoulder.

"It's Jack!" Walter's voice issued from Automan's mouth as he spotted the prone form of his friend lying on the deck.

Automan crossed the hold and knelt at Jack's side, touching his wrist to read his vital signs. "He's unconscious but he's in no danger. With a little time, he'll come around."

"He must have tried to stop them by himself," Walter said. It wasn't like Jack to be so reckless, but perhaps he hadn't had a choice. "Let's get 'em, Auto."

Automan rose and moved toward the cockpit, passing through the door behind Carnes and Durrell and placing a hand on their shoulders. "The game is over, gentlemen, and you lose."

Durrell sent a panicked glance over his shoulder. "Where did you come from?"

Carnes started to draw a gun.

"Get the gun, Walter," Automan said smoothly.

Walter reached out. Carnes gaped as another hand emerged from the intruder's left arm and snatched the gun out of his slackened grip. He slumped back into his seat, wide-eyed.

Durrell was so aghast that he didn't struggle when Automan twisted him around in the pilot seat with his great strength.

In his commanding voice Automan said, "Set the autopilot on your current course and altitude."

Responding like a robot, the man did as ordered.

"Now step this way," said Walter.

They returned to the hold, where Walter separated from Automan and tied up the two would-be hijackers.

"Who are you?" Durrell asked shakily. "CIA? FBI?"

"Police," Walter replied.

Carnes was utterly surprised. "You mean we've been caught by some lousy cops?"

Walter smiled, allowing some smugness to show. "For lousy cops, I thought we did a pretty good job on you."

The conspirators glanced briefly at each other, defeated.

* * *

Unlike his creation, Walter had only average human strength, and it took all of his effort to struggle with Jack's barely-conscious weight and get him settled in the co-pilot's seat. Panting, he collapsed into the pilot's chair and looked around. "Auto?"

Automan appeared behind him, but he was no longer wearing his uniform and his blue starfield body wasn't as strongly visible as it normally should have been. "Right here, Walter." He started to grow dim as he spoke.

"Aren't we going to merge so you can land this plane?" Walter asked with some urgency.

"Actually, you're going to have to land it."

"Me?" Walter panicked.

Automan regarded him apologetically. "It's dawn, Walter. The power demand is already draining my ability to stay. And at this distance, I can't draw on the base generator."

As it had too-frequently happened in the past, Automan's timing was atrocious. "I don't know anything about planes, much less how to fly one! I don't even get on ladders over four feet high!"

"There's nothing to worry about, Walter," Automan assured him. This plane is equipped with an automatic landing system, just like the space shuttle."

"I still don't know how to operate it..." Playing flight simulation games certainly was no substitute.

The hologram gave one of his infuriatingly confident smiles. "I've made a trip through the control circuits. It's programmed to fly back to Edwards and land. I've even set the transponder so you're back on radar. Just key the microphone and you can talk with the tower." His body flickered.

Walter let out a nervous breath. "I don't want them to hear me screaming."

Hearing the conversation, Lt. Curtis slowly roused with a soft groan. He turned his head and caught a last glimpse of Automan as the hologram disappeared. Unsure of whether he was still dreaming, he blinked and shook his head before taking another look, but there was nothing there.

The radio crackled and an air traffic controller spoke. "Aircraft approaching Edwards, please identify yourself."

Walter cleared his throat before reaching forward to press the microphone button. "This is Walter Nebicher with Lieutenant Jack Curtis. We've got your stealth plane back."

Confusion reigned in the control room since none of the operators recognized the voice on the radio, but Roxanne was greatly relieved to hear that her colleagues were all right.

"Who are these guys?" the head ATC asked her.

"Police Department, on special assignment in cooperation with the Department of Defense," she explained.

"The automatic landing system is engaged," Walter reported.

In the cockpit of the plane Lt. Curtis was now more alert, and he quickly realized what was happening and scanned the instrument panel. "Tower, we're on a heading of zero-eight-five magnetic."

"Good," responded the ATC. "You're cleared for a straight-in approach. We have you over the outer marker. The automatic landing system will put you down, but you'll have to brake and reverse engines."

"Got it," said Jack crisply.

Walter shot an apprehensive look at him. "Can you do that? You haven't flown in years."

"Watch, kid," Jack said with a little smile. "Here we go."

The plane descended and landed smoothly on the runway, but continued forward without losing its speed. Uncertainly at first, then with increasing confidence, Jack leaned on the brakes and began to flip switches on the panel. The howl of the plane's engines changed pitch as they reversed, and the plane gradually slowed.

Jack toggled some more switches to shut the engines down, and they rolled to a stop. Soon the plane was surrounded by crash trucks and police vehicles. Both men leaned back in their seats, tired and drained.

Jack laughed, wiping his forehead with his arm. "Guess you never lose the old skills."

"I guess that's one thing even a computer can't say," Walter said with relief.


	9. Epilogue

Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Fly-By-Night

Written by Sailor Chronos  
Based on a screenplay by D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana.

Epilogue

Later that day they were all gathered in Captain Boyd's office to discuss the outcome of the case.

"...so when we realized they were going for the stealth plane, I managed to get to the hangar just before they taxied out... and I got aboard through an open hatch in the cargo hold," Walter explained.

"Where was this government man, then?" asked Boyd.

"He got a plane up and followed," Roxanne put in.

"Right," continued Walter. "He got their attention and I was able to sneak up behind and overcome them. They didn't expect me there, you see. And then Jack started to come around, and the rest you know."

Captain Boyd eyed him with suspicion. "There are an awful lot of gaps in this story," he mused in an accusatory tone.

Lt. Curtis took up the tale. "Well, Captain, we know that Carnes and Durrell _were_ P.R. men. But when Northstar Aviation offered a small fortune for industrial espionage, they couldn't resist."

Then Walter added, "Northstar's arch rival, Drummond Aircraft, built the black box. Carnes and Durrell were hired to get it to Northstar so they could underbid."

"But so much of this information is classified, we might never know the whole truth," said Roxanne with a shrug.

Boyd shook his head with understandable frustration as he tried to process all that they were telling him. "I'm getting too old for this. My lieutenant flying around in an experimental plane... a computer lands it..."

As he often did, Walter passed the credit to Jack. It would be better for everyone. "Real police work pulled the whole thing together, sir... and Jack did that."

Boyd accepted that. "Yeah. But now that the country is saved, Nebish, you can start making the city safe again. I've got a string of bank robberies you can put those machines of yours to work on." He turned to Jack and pointed at him. "You too, Curtis. You've had enough time off, even if you spent it pulling heroics in the air."

Jack sighed tiredly and jerked his head toward the office door. "Come on, kid. Back to the mean streets."

As they filed out of Boyd's office, Walter was surprised at Jack's reference. "Mean streets? You read Raymond Chandler?" The novelist had had a huge influence on detective stories, but Walter had no idea that Jack had an interest in them.

Jack smirked at him. "Kid, I _live_ Chandler."

THE END

Sailor Chronos  
January 2011

I would like to thank the following people:

My husband, as always, for his support.

"Kyou Fangirl", my beta-reader, for helping with the editing and clarifying some details.

D.C. Fontana and Richard Fontana, for creating such a fun screenplay to interpret.


End file.
